Lucien hung up the phone and regarded the victim in front of them. "Alice, anything of note?" he asked.

"Bruising forming around the neck where he was strangled. Handprints, as you already suspected. But there's also bruising on the right hand, here," she pointed out.

Taking a closer look, Lucien saw that Winston Hicks had some discoloration on his knuckles.

"These are much older, though. Injury probably occurred a few days before death, based on the coloring. There's been some healing," Alice continued.

"Our Mr. Hicks got into a fight a few days ago. Any other evidence of it?"

"No, actually. I looked for that. Just the hand there."

Lucien nodded. "So not so much of a fight as it was Winston Hicks gave a rather mighty punch or two to someone who either didn't or couldn't fight back." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I'll go to the station and speak to Frank, see if they've had any reports of anyone being beaten in the last few days."

Without another word, Lucien hung up his lab coat and hurried out of the room, leaving Alice to mutter something that sounded like, "Yes, I'll just do the rest of the autopsy on my own, that's fine."

Frank Carlyle was doing paperwork at his desk when Lucien showed up unannounced, as he often did. "Blake, what have you got for me?" the Chief Superintendent asked.

Lucien gave a quick rundown of the findings thus far and ended with asking, "Have you had any reports of assault? Anyone with injuries from a fight? Someone who didn't fight back?"

"Crowe!" Frank called, ushering the young constable over. "Check to see if anyone matching that description has made a report lately."

"I'll check back at the pub in the morning to see if the barkeep knows of anyone," Lucien added. "Whoever Winston Hicks gave that walloping to would have good motive to strangle him at their next opportunity, especially if it was when Hicks was too inebriated to properly defend himself. I'll have Alice run his blood for alcohol levels."

"Wouldn't it be better to go now? When the pub's open?" Peter suggested.

Lucien shook his head. "No, the barmen will be too busy to talk to me. And besides, I need to get home to my family before dinner," he replied.

Frank smiled. "How are Jean and the children?"

"Everyone's fine," Lucien lied. In truth, he had no idea how Jean might be faring. She'd had a devil of a time the last few months. She had seemed in good spirits when he called at lunchtime, but there was no way to know if she'd had another of her depressive episodes. Lucien didn't like being out this long. Valerie was still very young at only five years old, and Johnny was so very small. Lucien would never admit that he worried about his wife's ability to care for their children, but the depth of her anguish was quite concerning.

He hurried back to the house and announced his presence when he opened the door. Immediately, he was greeted by thundering little feet. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" came his daughter's sweet little voice.

Valerie leapt into his open arms. "Hello, my darling girl!" he said, kissing her rosy cheeks. "How's your day been, Valerie?"

"We had so much fun, Daddy! Mummy and I had lunch, and then we played with Johnny. He still can't talk yet, but we made him laugh! Come see!"

Lucien put Valerie down to let her lead him into the parlor. He found Jean in her dressing gown and slippers sitting on the floor with baby Johnny lying on his back on a blanket, waving his little arms and legs all over the place.

"Daddy, watch!" Valerie cried excitedly, sitting beside her mother and leaning over her brother. "Bonjour, Johnny. Bonjour, mon petit," she cooed.

Johnny heard the French and let out the sweetest little gurgling giggle. Lucien couldn't help but laugh along with him. "Would you look at that?"

"The French makes him laugh, Daddy," Valerie explained.

Lucien knelt down and gave it a go. "Mon petit fils, tu es si beau, si charmant. Nous t'aimons beaucoup," he said, delighting in Johnny's hysterical laughter. Lucien reached down to let Johnny take his fingers in those little baby hands. He looked over to Jean, noticing that her face shone with tears amidst her beaming smile. "Alright, darling?" he asked quietly.

"Oh yes. I just feel like my heart might burst with love," she answered.

He gave her a quick kiss on her damp cheek. "I know the feeling."

After another minute or two of watching their children, Jean announced, "I should get dinner on."

"What can I do?" Lucien asked immediately.

"Spend some time with your children. Johnny isn't due for a feed for a little while. I thought I could give it a go after we eat," Jean replied.

Lucien nodded. He recalled how important it was to Jean that she breastfeed Valerie herself. She hadn't had the opportunity to do so with Johnny as much as she would have wanted. Anytime she was able, Lucien wanted to be sure she could. But they had plenty of formula otherwise. Their son certainly had not suffered in the least.

Jean hauled herself off the floor and made her way to the kitchen. Lucien remained where he was, playing with Johnny and Valerie. She was quite a loquacious child. Both Jean and Lucien encouraged her curious spirit, doing their best to treat her with patience and respect in answering all her unending questions and cultivating her voracious learning. Much of Johnny's personality hadn't quite developed yet. But already he was very different from his sister. He hardly ever cried, unlike Valerie. And also unlike Valerie, their boy seemed to be constantly moving. Jean had noted that he was much more active in the womb than Valerie ever was. And now that he was out in the world, their Johnny Blake seemed to constantly be kicking his chubby legs and grabbing at anything and everything with his baby hands. Lucien was never quite sure, though, what was just Johnny and what might be typical for a baby boy. He'd never had a son before. He didn't know what to expect. Jean was well-practiced, of course, but Valerie had been her first daughter, and she'd always seemed to know just what to do. At least they had each other. Jean and Lucien leaned on one another to raise their children. And in many ways, that was quite new for them both.

Meanwhile, Jean was in the kitchen, trying her best to boil potatoes and roast a chicken and sauté some veg. Perhaps it was just hunger or perhaps it was this horrific form of baby blues she couldn't seem to get over, but Jean felt like she was on her last leg. She wiped her brow with the sleeve of her dressing gown and took some slow, deep breaths. But this was just dinner. She could handle dinner. Surely she could make a simple meal for her husband and daughter. And then she could sit and relax and feed Johnny. That always made her feel better. Getting to nourish her son from her body was a gift Jean certainly did not take for granted. It had been her very favorite thing about Valerie's infancy, the way she could bond with her daughter and the way Lucien seemed so enthralled by the whole thing. She wanted that with Johnny. Her baby boy born so small, nearly too soon. Jean knew she was far too old for nearly all of this, but those precious things she desperately hoped to keep hold of. The things she could still do.

But perhaps she couldn't still do this. Jean was able to stumble over to the chair at the kitchen table to keep herself from falling to the floor. And with the last of her strength, she called for Lucien.

He was in the kitchen in a flash. "Yes, Jean, what is it?"

"I think I need to go back to bed."

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. He went to the stove and turned off the burners. "I'll handle this. It's no trouble. But let's get you back upstairs, alright?"

"I need a bit of a rest before I can make it up," Jean admitted shamefully.

"Not a problem. Come here, love." Lucien pulled her chair out and put one arm under her legs and looped around her waist with the other. He lifted his slender wife without much effort and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. Gently, he deposited her down onto the bed. He untied her dressing gown and peeled it from her body. He put her things to the side and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Rest, my darling."

Jean whimpered rather pathetically and pulled the bedsheets over her shoulders, rolling onto her side with her eyes closed. Lucien watched her for just a moment before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Valerie was waiting at the top of the stairs. "Is Mummy alright?" she asked with concern.

"Mummy's just tired."

And Valerie sighed, just as she had earlier in the day. "Mummy's always tired," she grumbled.

Lucien took her back downstairs. They ate a barely passable dinner that Lucien bungled only minimally; Valerie was used to Daddy's cooking by now. They sat at the kitchen table eating in silence. Valerie was pouting, missing her mum. Lucien wasn't sure what to do to make her feel better. He held Johnny in one arm while eating with the other. There wasn't much else he could do.

After dinner, he put Johnny in the crib for the time being. Valerie helped him with the washing up. She even corrected his washing technique, telling him more than once that he missed a spot and that Mum wouldn't allow the dishes to be put away looking like that.

"Valerie, I'm going to go check on Mummy and feed Johnny. How about you practice on the piano for a little while? I'll come back down and help you later, alright?"

She nodded obediently and went to sit at the piano. The sound of scales and chord exercises made him smile as he made his way upstairs.

"Jean?" he called softly as he opened the bedroom door. "Jean, are you awake?"

A muffled groan came from the lump in the bed that Lucien knew to be his wife.

"I brought Johnny up. If you want to feed him. Otherwise, I'll give him the bottle."

That got Jean's attention. As much as she barely felt able, she sat up and reached out for her son. Lucien helped prop her up with pillows as she unbuttoned her pyjama top and took Johnny in her arms. The baby took her breast without hesitation, and Jean exhaled with the feeling of relief she always got when she could feed.

"Good," Lucien murmured. He lay beside her on the bed, watching their son have his supper.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet boy," Jean whispered, tracing his wispy blonde curls with her fingertip. "I wish I could do more for you."

"You're doing everything you can, Jean," Lucien assured her.

"Am I? It's never been like this for me before, Lucien. This is my fourth child. And the only one I can't seem to take proper care of."

Lucien sat up and looked at her very seriously. "Jean, you look at that boy in your arms. Is there anything wrong with him?"

"No."

"Is he an unhappy child?"

"No."

"Does he want for anything?"

"No."

"As his mother, you know that. And as his father and as a doctor, I certainly know that. Jonathan Thomas Blake was born seven weeks early, but he is absolutely perfect. We made two perfect babies, Jean. And I know you want to do more, but my darling, you are fifty years old. And your body and your hormones have gone through a trauma that most people would not have survived, frankly. You are doing the best you can, and you are doing everything right. When you need rest, you rest. When Johnny cries, you feed him and change him. When Valerie needs her lunch, you make her a sandwich. No one is neglected."

"But you're running yourself ragged with all this, Lucien. The only reason Valerie and Johnny aren't neglected is because you are!" she interrupted, her voice hitching as she tried not to cry. "I am your wife, and I am supposed to be taking care of you."

"And when I need you, you do take care of me. But I am your husband, Jean, and that means that I have the duty to take care of you, too. And we are both parents, and we are both sharing the burden and blessings of caring for our children. I promise that everything's alright."

Jean swallowed hard, still trying to hold back her tears. "You know it's been four months since we've made love? I can't even remember the last time. I was pregnant and it probably wasn't very good," she lamented.

"We always had very good sex while you were pregnant. And when you weren't. Which is how you got pregnant," he joked and he was rewarded by little strangled laugh from Jean's lips. "By the way, I am sorry I didn't manage to get you anything for today. I meant to, but I didn't want to be away from home too long, what with the case."

"What do you mean, get me anything for today?"

Lucien knew very well that Jean hadn't looked at a calendar in quite some time. Which was why he didn't want to make a fuss. But since they were vaguely on the topic of their love life, he explained, "Today is our anniversary. We've been married for six years today."

Tears fell unchecked from Jean's eyes. "Lucien, I forgot our anniversary!?"

"Shh, it's alright, we've been a bit busy. We can celebrate when you feel better. Perhaps for Valentine's Day, we can have a belated celebration, alright?" he placated.

But Jean just kept crying. Johnny had finished eating, so she buttoned herself back up and put him on her shoulder to burp him, crying all the while.

"Please don't be upset, Jean," Lucien begged. "Shall we talk of something else?"

Jean quieted a bit, still feeling absolutely rotten but not wanting Lucien to feel guilty for upsetting her. Really, it was her own fault. She'd worry about that later. Jean sniffed back another hitched breath. "Tell me about Winston Hicks."

"Strangled. But older bruises on the knuckles of his right hand."

"He was in a fight?"

"No other wounds."

"He obviously won the fight."

Lucien chuckled slightly. "That's the angle I was think as well. I've asked Peter to check any recent assaults, anyone that may have been Hicks' victim and therefore may have had motive to attack him outside the pub."

Jean frowned, thinking as she patted Johnny's back to settle any bubbles in his belly. "I don't think you'll find anyone that way. If Hicks beat up some poor person without getting any wounds in return, perhaps it was someone too weak or too ashamed to fight back. Which might mean they wouldn't have reported it. I think you might be better off seeing who Hicks worked with. My memories of him were of a rather scrawny man working long hours for a rather heavy-handed boss. Hicks may have learned the same management style, once he was older and stronger."

At that moment, Johnny spit up a bit onto the flannel Jean had thrown over her shoulder for this very purpose. "I'll take that," Lucien offered, wiping the baby's face and taking the soiled towel. He leaned over and kissed his wife square on the mouth. "And you are a marvel. An absolute marvel."
A small smile appeared on Jean's lips. "Well, it's our anniversary. What's more romantic than discussing a murder case between kisses?"

Lucien laughed and kissed her again. "No way I'd rather spend the evening."